President Volodymyr Zelenskyy signed decree No. 971/2026, officially relieving Andrii Kovalenko of his duties as head of the Center for Countering Disinformation under the National Security and Defense Council, according to UNN. The news arrived through official channels not as a scandal but as a transition. For those who follow Ukraine’s fight against Russian propaganda, Kovalenko’s name has become synonymous with a tireless, often invisible struggle. The center, a small but critical institution, sits at the intersection of media analysis, strategic communication, and national security. It is where lies are studied, exposed, and countered, where narratives are tracked across social media, television, and messaging apps, and where Ukraine’s response to a relentless information assault has been shaped. The presidential decree used the standard formal phrase, “dismiss Andrii Valeriiovych Kovalenko from the position of head of the Center for Countering Disinformation.” No explanation, no drama. But behind the dry legal language lies a story of three years spent on the frontlines of a different kind of war. Kovalenko did not leave quietly, nor did he leave in bitterness. Instead, he offered gratitude, a sense of accomplishment, and a clear-eyed look toward the future. The decision appears to be part of a broader renewal of security institutions, with separate reports also noting that Zelenskyy dismissed a department head at the Security Service of Ukraine, Oleh Khramov. All of this suggests a government in motion, adjusting its personnel and priorities as the war enters a new, uncertain phase. For ordinary Ukrainians, the change may seem like just another administrative note. But for those who understand how much of this conflict is fought with words, algorithms, and manipulated images, the departure of Kovalenko is a notable moment. It marks the end of an era at the center, and the beginning of a question: who will carry this work forward, and at what cost?
Kovalenko’s own words offer the clearest window into what this role meant. In a statement carried by Ukrainian media, he thanked the president for accepting his resignation. “Three years at the Center for Countering Disinformation of the National Security and Defense Council is a long journey,” he said. “I am grateful for the opportunity to serve the state in this area. I believe that my team and I managed to build a strong institution, expand media products to counter disinformation and shape Ukraine’s agenda. We also significantly strengthened cooperation with international partners. For me, the time has come to move on. I am glad about it.” There is something striking about that phrase: “I am glad about it.” This is not a reluctant exit or a forced departure. It is a person who feels he has come to a natural end, ready for what comes next. He then added that he will remain involved in national security and what he called “the cognitive confrontation with Russia.” That phrase—cognitive confrontation—is not just jargon. It describes a war for the mind, a struggle over how millions of people perceive reality. In that war, disinformation is the weapon of choice, and the human brain is the battlefield. Kovalenko’s acknowledgment of this deeper mission suggests that his departure from the government post is not a retreat. It is a repositioning. He expressed confidence in the team he leaves behind. “Success to the Center for Countering Disinformation of the National Security and Defense Council. A wonderful team that will certainly do much more for the state,” he said. These are the words of a leader who believes the institution is bigger than any individual. In a government environment where turnover can often feel abrupt and personal, this public expression of mutual respect is notable. It signals that the transition was handled with maturity and that the center’s mission remains intact. For those who have watched Ukrainian counter-disinformation efforts evolve, Kovalenko’s tenure was never likely to end in a neat bow. But his own reflection offers a sense of closure, while leaving many threads open for the next chapter.
What exactly did Kovalenko achieve during his time at the center? By his own account, and as observable through the center’s growing footprint, the achievements were substantial. When he took over in early 2024, the center was already an established part of Ukraine’s security ecosystem, but it faced enormous challenges. Russia’s war machine had long integrated information warfare into every aspect of its operations. From the fake “Z” narratives to conspiracy theories about Ukrainian laboratories, from the denial of obvious battlefield realities to the fabrication of atrocities, the information space was a continuous front. Under Kovalenko’s leadership, the center worked to build a “strong institution,” as he put it. This meant not only analyzing and debunking falsehoods but also creating media products that could reach different audiences. The center expanded its digital presence, produced analysis that was shared both domestically and internationally, and worked to shape Ukraine’s agenda in a crowded media environment. One of the key successes was international cooperation. Western governments, NGOs, and media organizations have all delved deeper into understanding Russian disinformation, and Ukraine’s center became a key partner in that effort. Kovalenko and his team shared data, methodologies, and lessons learned with allies, helping to create a more resilient information space across the democratic world. In an age where misinformation can travel across borders in seconds, this kind of collaboration is not just useful; it is essential. The center also played a role in strengthening Ukraine’s own media literacy. By exposing false narratives and explaining the mechanisms of manipulation, it helped ordinary citizens recognize the tools of propaganda. This is no small task in a country where people are bombarded with conflicting headlines, Telegram channels, and viral videos. The impact of such work is often hard to measure. There are no battle maps to track the success of a debunking campaign. But over time, the cumulative effect of a credible institution that consistently challenges falsehoods is significant. Kovalenko’s reflection suggests he understood this. He did not claim to have won the war against disinformation. Instead, he spoke of building an institution and expanding products, which is perhaps the most honest and sustainable way to approach such a fight.
Kovalenko’s appointment in January 2024 came at a critical moment. By then, Russia’s full-scale invasion had been raging for nearly two years. The information front had become as important as the physical one, and Ukraine’s leaders understood that the war would not be won solely on the battlefield. Decree No. 29/2024, dated January 26, 2024, placed Kovalenko at the helm of the Center for Countering Disinformation. He was not new to this world. His background and early actions suggested a person who thought strategically about narratives, cognitive security, and the way adversaries exploit information systems. The center itself operates under the National Security and Defense Council, giving it a high-level mandate to coordinate across agencies. This is crucial because disinformation does not respect institutional boundaries. It hits the military, the economy, public health, and social trust all at once. A successful counter-disinformation effort must therefore be just as integrated. Under Kovalenko, the center sought to do exactly that. It monitored threats, attributed campaigns, and communicated findings to decision-makers and the public. It also pushed back against Russian attempts to sow division between Ukraine and its allies. As Western support sometimes wavered under the weight of political debates, the center’s work in highlighting Russian tactics helped maintain a shared understanding of what was at stake. Kovalenko’s reference to “cognitive confrontation” is especially telling. In many ways, the war between Ukraine and Russia has been a test of cognitive resilience. The Russian strategy does not always aim to make people believe a specific lie. Often, it aims to create confusion, doubt, and apathy. The goal is to make people give up on finding the truth. Against this, a counter-disinformation center’s job is not just to say “this is false,” but to provide an alternative pattern: coherent, evidence-based, and difficult to dismiss. That is a lot to ask of any institution, let alone one operating under the constant pressure of wartime. Yet Kovalenko leaves the center in a stronger position than he found it, by his own assessment and by the recognition of his peers. The fact that he remains involved in national security suggests that his expertise will not be lost to the state; it will just be channeled through a different avenue. In a time of war, such continuity of knowledge is valuable.
It is impossible to view this personnel change without also reflecting on the broader context of Ukrainian governance during wartime. The announcement of Kovalenko’s dismissal came alongside reports that President Zelenskyy had also dismissed a department head in the Security Service of Ukraine, Oleh Khramov. Such moves can be read in a few ways. On one hand, they are normal administrative rotations. Leaders often adjust their teams as circumstances evolve. On the other hand, they signal a government that is constantly evaluating performance and loyalty, and that is not afraid to make changes even in sensitive areas. In wartime, every position is scrutinized, every decision can have outsize consequences. Information security, especially, is an area where the cost of failure is high. A misstep in countering disinformation can lead to panic, loss of confidence, or even strategic surprise. Therefore, the choice of who leads the Center for Countering Disinformation is not merely technical. It is a matter of national security. By accepting Kovalenko’s resignation, Zelenskyy may be making room for a new approach, a different voice, or simply a fresh face. But the president also appears to be keeping Kovalenko’s expertise within the wider security community. That is a wise move. In the fight against disinformation, relationships and context matter as much as formal titles. A former official who knows the players, the patterns, and the weaknesses of the system can continue to contribute in informal capacities, as an adviser, an activist, or a public intellectual. Kovalenko’s own statement hints at exactly this. “I will remain involved in national security and the cognitive confrontation with Russia,” he said. That line reassures those who fear that his departure will weaken Ukraine’s ability to respond to Russian information warfare. It also demonstrates a level of dedication that goes beyond any single job. For the team left behind, the challenge is to build on this foundation. The center must not lose momentum. It must continue to track false narratives, support allies, and educate the public. There will be new leaders, new personalities, and new tactics. But the institutional memory that Kovalenko helped create will remain. In many ways, this is how strong institutions are made: not by the presence of a single irreplaceable individual, but through the accumulation of practices, relationships, and credibility that survive individual departures.
At its core, this story is not just about decrees and titles. It is about people who choose to spend their lives in difficult, often thankless work. The fight against disinformation is not glamorous. It involves hours of reading hostile comments, analyzing manipulated videos, tracing bots, and crafting careful responses. It involves absorbing abuse and managing a constant flow of bad news. Yet there are people like Andrii Kovalenko who take on this burden because they believe it matters. His departure from the Center for Countering Disinformation marks the end of a chapter, but not the end of the story. The problem of disinformation will not disappear, and Ukraine’s need for cognitive security will only grow. As the war continues, as new technologies such as artificial intelligence make it easier to produce convincing fakes, the work of people like Kovalenko becomes even more essential. The fact that he is moving on, of his own volition, and expressing gladness about it, is perhaps a sign of confidence. He has done his part. He has built something. Now he trusts others to take it further. In his final message to the center, he wished success to “a wonderful team that will certainly do much more for the state.” That is the voice of a mentor, a colleague, and a patriot. It is also a reminder that public service, even in the darkest of times, can be a source of personal fulfillment. For the rest of us, the takeaway is simple. We should pay attention to these quiet personnel changes, because they shape the institutions that protect us. We should appreciate the people who work behind the scenes, often without recognition, to keep the information environment from becoming a weapon of mass confusion. And we should trust that, even as individual leaders step aside, the mission continues. Ukraine’s cognitive confrontation with Russia is far from over. But thanks to leaders like Kovalenko, the country has better tools, stronger partnerships, and a more experienced generation of defenders ready for whatever comes next. There will be moments of uncertainty, but the foundation is there: an informed public, a dedicated team, and a cause that will not fade. The center may have a new head, but it still carries the same mandate. Andrii Kovalenko may be moving on, but the work he helped nurture is part of Ukraine’s larger struggle for sovereignty—in land, mind, and spirit.